


Mojo

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 23:45:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14152002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Harry gets a new client at the groomer’s.





	Mojo

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for 70thousandlightyearsfromhome’s “Paris/Kim” answer on [my tumblr ask](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/172417936240/its-been-too-long-since-i-trek-ficced-anything).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

As weird a name as _Voyager_ is for a groomers, the facilities are top-notch, and Harry finds it far easier to rebook his clients on the _Voyager_ computers than he did at his last job. Besides that, the front desk is large and well kept, and the manager’s always got a fresh cup of coffee ready. With his mug perched next to the terminal, Harry puts Mark and his shaggy Irish-Setter in for next Thursday. There’s an opening earlier on Wednesday, but it’s right after Ms. Torres’ bulldog-targ mix, and that chaos almost always runs over.

When the little bell above the shop’s door chimes, Harry automatically looks up—he tries to always greet everyone properly, even if he’s not technically a receptionist, because that kind of eager dedication to the job is exactly what keeps him in the manager’s good graces. A man with sandy-brown hair and an orange tabby under one arm slips inside, smiling winningly as he spots Harry behind the desk. Harry automatically smiles back, memory stirring. 

The man’s cute enough that for the short walk between the door and the desk, Harry’s too distracted to think of where he knows this person from. The cat mewls as soon as it’s within reach of the polished surface, and the man lets it down, which Harry only allows because he cleans the desk a dozen times a day anyway. Both hands now freed, the man leans over the counter and offers one up, greeting, “Harry, right?”

Harry stands up too, reaches over to take the man’s hand, and nods. The man has a good, firm shake, palm pleasantly warm. As he withdraws it afterwards, he adds, “We met at Neelix’s party last week, remember? But then, you got called away so fast we barely did more than say hello.”

That jogs Harry’s memory—the party, right, which he only went to because a coworker dragged him, and it’s so hard to say no to Kes. But he does remember slipping his hand into Tom’s, looking up into Tom’s blue eyes, and hearing that name, which he now tries: “Tom?”

“That’s me,” the man answers, grinning broadly. “Too bad you didn’t tell me _where_ you were running off to. I had to drag it out of Neelix.” 

Harry says, “Sorry,” on instinct. He mainly means sorry for ditching the party, though Tom doesn’t look upset. He _knows_ he’s probably a little too tightly wound, a little too dedicated to work, but the party was a little wild for him anyway, and there’s some clients worth working late for. Tuvok, who had interrupted that particular night, has the most well behaved sehlat Harry’s ever seen, and Tuvok always pays and tips well. He does remember a twinge of regret leaving so soon after meeting Tom though, because his first impression then was the same as it is now: Tom’s cute.

Tom brings the attention back to his cat, gesturing at it while it plods around the desk and eyes Harry’s mug. “So, how much to get this little guy fixed up?”

“That depends on what you want,” Harry answers, which is extra true for cats, who don’t really _need_ professional grooming as much as many other animals. It makes him wonder if Tom actually wanted a treatment at all, or if he just came to see _Harry_ , which is sort of what it sounds like. But given that they only met for maybe five seconds, that’d be ridiculous.

Tom shrugs vaguely and tries, “Oh, y’know, the usual.”

“I can trim her coat and nails for thirty-five credits.”

“You got yourself a deal, Harry.” And Tom, for some reason, smiles like _Harry’s_ the one getting a deal. It makes Harry blush just as inexplicably. 

He averts his eyes to the cat. She purrs happily when he pets her, as pleasant as her owner. Harry clears his throat and presses on, “So, uh... what’s her name?”

“I don’t know,” Tom answers, shrugging casually. “I just found her outside.”

Harry, who’d been scratching behind the cat’s ear, does a double take at Tom. Tom grins winningly and freely admits, “To be honest, I just wanted an excuse to come see a certain cute groomer.” He follows it up with a wink, which makes Harry’s blush deepen tenfold. He’s never been so cavalierly handed a stray before. He can’t tell if Tom’s charming or sleazy. Tom adds, “You don’t mind if I stick around for the grooming, do you?”

Harry sort of splutters but ultimately says, “Sure.” Sticking to that, he picks the cat up to take back to one of the booths, all too aware of the handsome client tailing behind.


End file.
